Rock a bye Baby
by annonymouss
Summary: "Hush, little baby, don't you cry; you just deserve to die." A mother's words have never been so deceiving, yet so violent and true. No one will ever love him, and that is the truth...


**Disclaimer: **I do not own, _Percy Jackson & the Olympians; _all rights go to _Rick Riordan. _I also do not own the nursery rhyme.

**Summary:** "Hush little baby, don't you cry; you just deserve to die." A mother's words have never been so deceiving, yet so violent and true. No one will ever love destruction; and sadly, no one will ever love _him_. Has he learned to accept it yet?

/Revised/

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><p>"<strong>Rock-a-bye Baby"<strong>

"_Rock-a-bye baby, _

_In the tree top;_

_When the wind blows,_

_The cradle will rock._

_When the bough breaks,_

_The cradle will fall; _

_And down tumbles baby;_

_Cradle and all."_

**_1_**

_He was only a baby when no one wanted him._

Soft, whimpering cries of an offspring echoed through the marble halls of the vast palace, one so enchanting, so beautiful: Olympus. A warm pair of flesh touched his misshapen face, and they picked the blue bundle up to her bosom, ever so gently. In her hands, the young deity became quiet. His dark eyes looked up, staring at a vital woman who was frowning at him, but decided to rock the young god to sleep in her arms. As he closed his eyes the queen examined it, disgusted at the sight of this…_thing_.

The queen, who was as beautiful as the goddess of love herself, didn't know what to do. Underneath those dark and thick eyelashes her warm, calf-like eyes with a vibrant color of brown rolled as her eyebrows furrowed and formed a V. Her porcelain figure grew red as she started to stress and strain; but still rocking the baby to sleep, she tried to stay calm, for she did not want it to wake up, and start bawling again. The dark curls that grew on her head covered half of her face, but she did not bother brushing the strands behind her soft ear. The baby was hungry, but she didn't feed him. Her red, luscious lips curved as it began to cry again.

For thousands of years she wanted to show her husband what she was made of; to make him pay and suffer for what he did to her during these past centuries, and to be able to live without anything or anyone messing up. She wanted things to be _perfect_. But how could she do that with this stupid piece of trash? Truly, a being this crippled could do nothing but bring her shame. She wanted a perfect child—a perfect family—but got _this_ instead.

_How could this have happened? _She thought.

There was no way she could do anything about it, except get rid of the baby for good. She didn't want her husband to laugh at her; she didn't want anyone to make fun of her. Her husband—the traitor—probably just finished courting a mortal and would be home shortly. The queen, sadly, had no other choice and the decision that crept into her malevolent mind was final. Silently, she brought the baby to the garden where the golden apples lay.

**.  
>…<strong>

She placed the bundle in a silver cradle as she looked down from the mountain. Truly, it was a long way down. The rocks and boulders at the bottom would make a nice resting place for this baby to land on. And then it'll all be over soon. Once again, this garden would have another beautiful memory to share.

Startled by her movements, the baby opened its innocent eyes and makes a soft noise, as if it were saying, _Mommy, please don't do this…_ He huddled closer to his blanket, and starts to whimper again. The mother began to soften—almost thinks twice—and stares at the poor child; the poor, innocent child in that little, baby blue bundle. But, she can't have him stay here, live, and bring her shame.

The newborn baby quietly cried at it realizes its fate. The mother of the child looked at it for the last time, turning away as she did so. "Hush, little baby, don't you cry…" She says with deep malice in her voice, "_You just deserve to die_."

Lady Hera, the queen of the gods, the goddess of marriage, fertility, wife of Zeus stepped forward and looked down, the cradle in her hands. Who knew a mother could do something this deceiving to her very own child? The baby starts to cry even louder. It reaches its deformed hands out, but the queen didn't touch it. The crying became unbearable, and terribly loud.

"Sshhh!" she yelled and shoved her finger against his mouth. "Be quiet you pathetic excuse of a son! How can I prove myself_ perfect, dominant _or_ superior _with that horrid noise you're making?" She looked around curiously. No one could afford seeing what she was to do to the child, "Don't worry. It'll all be over soon."

And without hesitation, she threw the cradle off the mountain without a word. In a matter of seconds, the cradle was nowhere in sight. All that was heard from below were weary screams and cries of a child dying that echoed. Terrifying screeches ran through Hera's ears, but then it died out.

"It's done."

…

"_Rock-a-bye baby in the tree top."_

The cradle fell with sudden force due to gravity and landed right in a willow tree; hanging right on a branch, it started to swing. The wind rocked the cradle back and forth, back and forth. Poor little baby, all cold and homeless; no one loved him. Hephaestus cowered beneath his blue blanket, trying to warm himself up, but he is only an infant, vulnerable to the world, no one raising him. All of a sudden, the wind starts to pick up its pace, gaining speed. The breeze danced around his face ferociously, making contact and blocking his nose. The bough started to break, because of his weight. It gets colder and windier, the cradle starts to shake.

"_When the wind blows the cradle will rock."_

Then, the branch started to break from the tree even more. The cradle, it's was close to falling, and tumbling with poor Hephaestus in it. With just one final blow, the bough breaks; the cradle falls.

"_When the bough breaks the cradle will fall;"_

Hephaestus fell out of the cradle and tumbled down, head first. The cradle comes after, landing on his soft body. It squishes him, which made his body even more crippled. He cried out in pain as he hits the floor—much harder than when the cradle got stuck. A golden fluid, the blood of gods, drenches the ground.

"_And down tumbles baby… cradle and all."_

He is _very _lame, nothing except pain and sadness in his heart. A woman who watched the scene ran to him, the cradle still on his body. His tears streak down his cheek, and the young girl tried to help him. She ignored his hideous form, and called for help. Did he have a home?

_Revenge, revenge, and revenge._

**_2_**

"Hephaestus, blacksmith, please, you have to release Lady Hera from the golden throne you created!" The messenger cried and pleaded.

The crippled god—no longer a baby—just laughed at his attempt. "Why should I release her? Why, I ask you? I refuse to obey these orders! If you want to save that _pathetic_ excuse for a queen, then do it yourself. Leave my workshop at once."

"But –"

"I said leave! Go back toOlympusand tell Zeus what I have told you just now, messenger. Now, be gone!"

All of the gods and minor forces of nature tried reasoning with the god of fire, but they all failed. Hephaestus, still full of hatred for his mother, was not satisfied as they all offered him a sacrifice and tried to reason with him.

Only one prevailed.

"Hephaestus?"

"Who is it now, and what the Hades do you want?" grumbling, the ugly god looked up. In front of him, there was a man with grape vines around his neck. He was kind of chubby, which made him look like a cherub, and had gray hair. He had a shaggy beard, wore a robe, and carried a vase in his hands as he walked, which was filled with wine.

"Hello," he took out a sticky hand. "My name is Dionysus,"

"Yeah, whatever; who cares. What do you want? I'm designing something 'special' at this very moment. Make it quick. If it's about Hera and her 'punishment', leave immediately."

The demigod shook his head before Hephaestus had the chance to kick him out. "No, it's about something else… Would you care for some wine?"

The god of the forge looked up, and stared at Dionysus. The wine, it seemed tasty; still eyeing him, he took more than one sip, enjoying the beverage.

…

"Thank you for saving Hera, Hephaestus!" Zeus exclaimed in a deep, thunderous voice.

Behind him, the queen of the gods did nothing. She refused to say thank you; refused to say 'I'm sorry' to her son, and didn't smile. But, why would he care? They would never love each other. He smiled a crooked smile to the rest of the gods out there.

"On behalf ofMountOlympus, we would love to present you a prize for saving my dearest wife." Boasted Zeus, "Aphrodite, please come fourth."

Out of the crowd, a young maiden steps up gracefully, her dress just barely touching her porcelain feet. It held onto her curvy figure which complimented her beauty, but it was also fairly simple. She seemed to make anything look beautiful on her in a snap. Her long, elegant golden curls fell down her back and they bounced up and down. The eye shadow she wore brought out her grassy green eyes—which started changing colors like a kaleidoscope; light amber, sea-blue, stormy grey, dark silver, rainbow. She had the most luscious lips man ever laid eyes on; such softness, fullness, you can almost _taste_ it. And, just like her eyes, her image seemed to be changing _every_ second.

Whatever you thought was considered beautiful on a woman, the young goddess of love, beauty and desire took it to the next level. As she stood next to Zeus, the fire god felt his heart skip a beat. She was truly the _perfect _being he had ever laid his eyes on.

"Yes, Zeus... Why did you call me?" Aphrodite asked innocently. She had a very vibrant, very tender voice. With one look at Hephaestus and his presence, she almost started to snicker. _Who is this hideous beast? _She wondered. _He is terribly ugly. Such horror… I pity this being._

The king answers. "It seems the queen has finally been set free…"

Excited, Aphrodite's eyes started changing into the color of joy. She tried to stay calm but, instead, says, "Who on Olympuswas smart enough to release the _beautiful _queen from that horrid throne? Was it Ares?" It seemed like she would jump like a toddler in a candy store, wanting some chocolate or licorice, at any second. Just like a predator hunting for its prey, she silently for the answer.

"No…Hephaestus did," he sighed.

Her smile faded. _No, it can't be! _She thought. Hephaestus's eyes widened in surprise—and amusement.

"You two are to be married as soon as possible."

Jumping up and down with joy Hephaestus, and all of the goddesses, rejoiced. But the male gods (both minor and superior) who fell in love with his "fiancé" envied the lucky man—especially his half brother, the god of war: _Ares._

How could someone as hideous as him marry such a lovely being? He didn't notice his future bride staring at her _true_ love in the crowd, Ares. Her eyes were full of sadness and lust as she turned away, trying to smile.

He didn't know what he was getting himself into.

_Poor little baby._

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><p>I hope you liked it...<p>

If you have any suggestions or found any grammar mistakes, please tell me. Thank you! Once again, I revised this fanfic, which just so happens to be a first. You may or may not be able to spot some differences, though.


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